The Juxtaposition of Love and Hate
by The Sentient Wolf
Summary: “You know nothing of emotion,” He mocks, his face inches from hers now, “you cannot understand its intricate composition. You cannot even decipher your own feelings, let alone those of others.” “I know hate.” She shoots back.


**Title:** The Juxtaposition of Love and Hate

**Summary:** "You know nothing of emotion," He mocks, his face inches from hers now, "you cannot understand its intricate composition. You cannot even decipher your own feelings, let alone those of others."

"I know _hate_." She shoots back, chest rising and falling raggedly. "I _know_ this is hate."

**Disclaimer:** As you know, not mine.

**Setting: **Pre-HBP (but that's not particularly important)

**Rating:** T

**Pairing:** SS/BL

**Genre:** Angst

**Notes:** To those reading my Mary Sue parody; I haven't abandoned it; I just had to get this out of my head! This bunny had been plaguing me for some time and I don't think I'll be able to carry on the parody until I've written a little nice, relaxing dark angst.

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A single pool of watery-yellow light dances rhythmically on the cold marble floor, as its candelabra counterpart sways against the ceiling.

The edges of the black titles are illuminated only momentarily with the movement of the iridescent candles.

The ballroom is vast and the meager chandelier could never hope to illumine the entire floor at once.

And that is just how Bellatrix likes it. For how could she be expected to socialize with someone she cannot see?

Yes, that is her excuse.

She is not eagerly engaged in conversation because she cannot see anyone with whom she can converse.

Yes…

Thus she stands in a dim corner, sipping her third….fourth?...glass of wine.

Long, slender fingers toy aimlessly with the crystal as she wonders vaguely where her husband has disappeared to.

Not that it really matters really, she's just moderately curious as to whom he's with tonight.

A brief smirk lightens her features as her fingertips make contact with the crest upon the crystalline glass.

Malfoy. _Pouvoir ou mort._

_Yes, yes_, she thinks, _Narcissa has done well for herself…_

She had married the perfect pure-blood man, with the perfect bank account and had produced the perfect supercilious heir.

But then of course the Blacks would have accepted nothing less than perfection.

That's why Narcissa was the favourite sister.

She always had been.

As a child she was pretty, popular and composed, whereas Bellatrix was impatient and sharp-tongued.

_And nothing's changed…_

Bellatrix had not done as well for herself as her sister, but then that was to be expected.

_Self-fulfilling prophecy. _She thinks with a bitter draft of her glass.

The blood-red liquid burns its way slowly down her throat as her body gives a tiny pleasurable shudder at the pain.

The remaining red beads slide slowly down the glass as her arm drops back to her side.

She'll need to refill her goblet if she hopes to survive the night.

With a sigh she steps from her shadowy sanctuary and draws her cloak's hood more securely over her head.

The rim of the dark fabric taunts her dark eyes as it swings in and out of her line of vision.

She walks quickly across the floor, noticing for the first time the incessant, monotonic chatter reverberating off the faintly lit walls.

The droning shadows are scattered about the room like chess pieces after a game, in the light it is impossible to tell one from the other so there is no chance that…

"Bella!"

Recognizing the voice instantly Bellatrix finds herself biting back a growl.

"Cissy." She states simply as her fair-haired sister comes to stand at her side.

Once again she finds herself assaulted by the strange lattice of emotions that single word brings about in her chest; jealousy…rage…fortification…pity…hate…love…

She is far too accustomed to this to be affected by it.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Despite the light tone, Bellatrix senses the tension and weariness behind her sister's words and can not help the sick sense of satisfaction that sparks in her at the sound.

"There is nowhere else I would rather be." She responds dryly.

"Well, it was quite a bit of work for Lucius and me," Narcissa continues airily, but with a slight fire in her blue eyes, "after the Dark Lord suggested it we knew it had to be nothing short of perfect."

"He would expect nothing less." Bellatrix eyes her sister through dark lashes and wonders when she became so subtlety manipulative.

_But then again, so much has changed over the years…_

She meets Narcissa's pale eyes and reads the guarded emotion clearly, as the hostess resumes conversationally; "How is Rudolphus? I haven't seen him all night."

"Oh, he'll be around somewhere, I'm sure. He had some unfinished business to attend to." A slight smirk. "You know how it is."

_My, my, when did we get so sharp?_.

"Yes I remember what that was like, though it _was_ a long time ago. Now Lucius always asks me to accompany him on his errands."

Behind her hood Bellatrix raises her dark eyebrows, the venom dripping off the pair's slight verbal sparring session was almost palatable.

"I find Rudolphus works better without distraction, I wouldn't want to hinder him. I know the Dark Lord would not approve of that."

_Ah, touché. _

Something flashes past the blonde's eyes and in an instant she had dropped all pretenses. "Bella…Bella, how're things? Really?"

The dark-eyed witch blinks at the tone of her sister's voice as she replies, "Just fine, Sister, perfectly fine."

_How long have you been fading away, Cissy? _

"I was just…I've just been rather concerned."

_How long have I, for that matter?_

"Cissy," The gentle sound of her own voice startles her, "there is nothing to worry about, I assure you. Once this whole war is over and the Dark Lord claims victory everything will settle back into place."

"I know you're right, Bella, it's just hard to remember at times…" Her words trail away and fade into the dim around them.

For a moment there is silence between the twosome before Narcissa speaks. "If you'll excuse me, I must attend to my guests."

And just as quickly as she appeared, she blends into the darkness.

Bellatrix watches as her sister's silvery hair vanishes into the shadows before she continues her path to the kitchen.

She keeps to the outskirts of the room, far out of the swinging candelabra's reach and it comes as somewhat of a surprise when she discovers the slight unevenness of her footsteps.

The irregular clicks of her boots fill her mind as she walks the familiar path to the old oak door.

It opens silently and without protest as she steps quickly into the room, igniting a nearby torch bracket with a wave of her wand.

The room is nearly as large as the one she just left, with numerous mahogany shelves and cupboards lining the walls, and a large, intricately crafted table in its centre.

Bellatrix takes a moment to breathe in the calm surrounding her before reaching into a cupboard and withdrawing a crimson bottle.

The dark liquid rushes eagerly to her lips as she shifts her body until her lower back is pressed against the table.

Hazily she wonders how much alcohol it would take to stop her heart, then laughs humourlessly at the prospect.

It takes sometime for the sensation to reach her brain, but when it does Bellatrix is hit with the realization that the table's edge is causing her mild discomfort.

With a sigh of irritation Bellatrix shifts herself higher against the wood, but with the sudden erratic movement and her perception affected by the alcohol, the hand holding the wine bottle jerks violently and her fingers slide...

Bellatrix realizes what was about to happen before it actually does, but is powerless to stop it.

The bottle in her tightly clenched hand slips free, Bellatrix fumbles desperately, but to no avail.

She flinches in the prelude of the inevitable and waits for the crash…

…but after a beat it is obvious that there will not be one and Bellatrix's eyes fly quickly to where the bottle was last seen.

"Who would have thought you could startle so easily." Hisses an amused voice.

"Snape." Bellatrix growls as a pale hand places the wine bottle securely on the table beside her. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I," The man turns his back on Bellatrix and makes his way to the shelves behind him, "am here to fetch another bottle of wine at Lucius' request. I assume you left some? He only has a few dozen bottles after all…"

"Is that really the only way he could think to keep you entertained?"

"Entertained?" Although Bellatrix cannot see it, she knows he is cocking an eyebrow. "Your sister's husband simply requested a favour and I obliged."

"Oh, and what _other _favours do you offer my darling sister's partner?"

She knows she has hit a nerve and Snape turns slowly to face her, in a hushed, steady tone he whispers, "And just what are you implying?"

Bellatrix chuckles as she pushes herself from the table and sways slightly on her feet. "I think you know what I mean, Snape. The rumours are _still_ circulating."

Snape shows no reaction to her words but returns with a quiet barb of his own. "You would know all about rumours, now wouldn't you? Tell me, how are Rudolphus' current _business ventures_…"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Bellatrix snaps before she can stop herself.

_What is it about this man that infuriates me so? _

"My, my," Snape lowers his voice even further and Bellatrix can see the faint flickering of a candle's flame reflected in his pupils, "seems I've _cut _a little too deep."

Bellatrix shrieks with fury and lunges at the man, wand raised.

Snape is taken aback for only an instant before he reacts, seizing the witch's wrists and forcing her backwards.

Her back connects painfully with the mahogany table as her hood drops from her face to her neck.

She's breathing heavily and glaring into the dark eyes of the man before her.

_If I could…_

Snape breaths a laugh. "Don't even _think _it." And he tightens the hold on her forearms.

Bellatrix winches slightly in his grip and Snape sneers.

"Pathetic." He spits, shaking her left arm.

The black material falls to her elbow and Snape lets out a soft, cold laugh at the thin, white lines that decorate her skin.

"You are truly _deplorable_." He snarls, finally releasing his hold.

Bellatrix matches his arctic laugh with one of her own. "You just cannot stand it, can you Snape?"

"Cannot stand you? How very observant you are."

"That's not what gets to you and we both know it." Bellatrix lowers her voice and stares him down viciously. "You cannot stand the fact that I represent all you hate about yourself."

"I am _nothing _like you!" For the first time Snape appears to be on the verge of losing control.

"But you want to be, don't you? You filthy little Half-Blood! You cannot be a Slytherin or a Death Eater in your own right so you throw yourself at the feet of those above you, whether it's Lucius, or the Dark Lord or even that fool Dumbledore. _You _are the pathetic one."

"And you're the manic drunkard who falls asleep each and every night, wondering whose bed her husband warms, and prays for the courage to kill her sister."

At this Bellatrix's eyes widen but before she can retort Snape cuts in, "I see the way you look at her. You're jealous because she has _everything _you have always wanted, yet at the same time you would slit her throat to keep her safe. That's how you justify it in your twisted little mind, am I right?"

"I would do _anything _for Narcissa!" She shrieks. "You…you don't…"

"Oh yes, yes I do. I know the way you think, Bellatrix, and you hate it, you despise it with every fibre of her being."

"No." The growl is deep in her throat and her eyes burn with malice. "I hate _you _with every fibre of my being."

This makes Snape laugh as his black eyes bore holes into hers. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

"You make my skin crawl." Her voice is thick with hate and her breath is coming in short, sharp gasps.

"You fear me, Bellatrix." He taunts.

"You!" Anger heats her veins and she straightens against the table's side. "I fear _nothing_!"

"You think too highly of your Occlumency skills." His voice is almost inaudible now as he moves toward her. "You're _transparent_."

"You're projecting." She hisses back, drawing herself to full height and closing the gap between them even further.

"You know nothing of emotion," He mocks, his face inches from hers now, "you cannot understand its intricate composition. You cannot even decipher your own feelings, let alone those of others."

"I know _hate_." She shoots back, chest rising and falling raggedly. "I _know_ this is hate."

A torch light flickers somewhere and it that one instant two bodies press together.

Bellatrix falls back against the table as Snape forces his lips roughly against hers. Two pairs of hand grope desperately through folds of dark cloaks and tangle in strands of long, black hair.

They are both gasping now, shivering with a mixture of sheer delight and pure revulsion. Strong hands grasp at Bellatrix's hips as she nips at pale flesh and Snape growls in her ear.

The hold between them tightens in angry desperation as he moves against her and she gasps, "I hate you. Severus, I _hate_ you."

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Thank you for reading! Doing the whole thing in present tense was a bit of a challenge, but I tried to keep it constant. Please tell me what you think. I've never written Bella before.


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